Men, I’m taking a stand against this Hallmark endorsed day of male oppression. That’s right, someone’s got to do it. That’s right men, stand up, cry out with one voice: “We are not going to participate in this made up holiday for the sake of going through the motions of showing some token affection as if this gets us out of anything during the rest of the year. We know that this so-called holiday is just another opportunity for us to screw up and we refuse to be the objects of scorn presented to your girlfriends as Exhibit A in the case of how men are worthless.”

Um, maybe a unified “no” might work better. But I digress.

Men, if you’re like me, you long for the halcyon days when women were little more than property. When we could come home from our men only jobs and our women would have our dinners ready, the house cleaned, be dressed in pearls, and have our slippers and pipe ready by the fireplace. There were no expectations of conversation. No need to demonstrate our feelings. When a roof over her head was all her grateful self needed.

This is what happens when we let them vote.

So I’m forced to consult my list of gift ideas for the wife:
-a dress two sizes too small with a note mentioning that I want to take her out with her wearing that dress in two weeks.
-a new vacuum cleaner, because nothing says “I love you” like appliances.
The Wire, seasons 1 and 2, because I know nothing would make her happier than my favorite show on DVD.

Instead, me and the boys show up at her work, each of us with a different colored rose. A two-fer gift, since she also got to show off her thoughtful husband and cute boys.

And … maybe my wife bought me the “pamper yourself” special at Philipe’s Spa and Cosmetiques because it has been a while since I was treated to a mani and pedi for my little metrosexual self.

But I’m still protesting. On principle.